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^^^^^ Early 




Tales of Early Love, 



TO 



SWEETHEARTS, WIFE, MOTHER, NATIVE 
LAND, CHURCH, GOD. 



BY A TENNESSEEAN. 

most respectfully dedicated to the 
Misses B., of New York City. 



33V3" ' 



} 



Printed for the Author. 

Publishing House of the M. E, Church, South. 

Barbee & Smith, Agents, Nashville, Tenn. 

1892. 



T5 



W9."T'3 




EMELINE SKATING ON THK DELAWARE KIVEK. 

(2) 



Copyright, 1892. 




TALES OF EHRLY LOVE, 



Hail, holy love! thou word that sums all bliss, 
That fills the bowl and banquet of the sky— 
The sparkling cream of all time's blessedness. 

Young ladies, I have come to share your smiles :i 

And catch the sweet contagion of your joy. : 

Your prankish plays shall make me young again, : 
Call back the romance of departed years ; 

When your grandmothers, in their youthful bloom, ; 

Could fascinate and charm the coldest hearts. ': 

You ask for tales of glad, unselfish love, ' 

When nature's springtime strewed with fragrant flow'rs , 

The pathway trodden by light, buoyant steps. 1 

You say that I in the bright days of old .? 

Laid votive off rings upon love's pure shrine. ; 
Yes, ladies, I have over been in love 
With some fair daughter of majestic Eve. 

My mother, left a widow in her prime, ] 

Pressed to her bosom her loved orphan child; '< 

And as I upward gazed into her eyes, j 

Taught me to love all of the gentle sex. \ 

Through nearly fourscore years I've longed to feel ] 
The loving pressure of her arms again. 

Pardon an old man's freely flowing tears: ! 

She'll soon embrace me in God's paradise. ] 



But you would have me tell a joyous tale 
Of youth's devotion to some winsome lass. 
A Sabbath morning threw its sacred charm 
Around the inmates of our humble home ; 
The air was perfumed with delightsome scents 
Of honeysuckles, roses, pinks, and balm, 
Rising like incense toward the throne of God; 

(4) 



TALES OF EARLY LOVE, 



Industrious bees and tiitting humming birds 
Drew from the flow'rs richer delicious drafts 
Than fabled nectar of false, fabled gods. 
I had been told of my good uncle's home, 
Two miles away lifting its lofty roof, 




My mother, most demurely reverent. 

And now the longed for day of days had come 
When 1 should visit that enchanting place. 
All neatly washed and decked in Sunday clothes, 
We passed the orchard gayly blossoming. 



'""a 








8 TALES OF EARLY LOVE. 

The hick'ry trees, in their green garniture, 

"The oaks, majestic monarchs of the woods," 

In grandeur throned through hoary centuries. 

We crossed the rippling brook, walked up the slope, 

And through the thicket of quite recent growth. 

I gazed in wonder upon old Fort Hill, 

Where cannon thundered in the time of war 

To drive marauding Britons to their ships; 

And thus far kept within the well-trod path. 

My mother, most demurely reverent, 

Talked much of God, who painted the fair flow'rs 

And breathed their fragrance lavishly around; 

Of Christ, who died that sinners might be saved, 

Who e'en would help a little boy be good. 

But I was chasing modest "Jennie Wren," 

Or list'ning to a robin's cheerful song; 

Until a flaming redbird crossed my jDath, 

And drew me where the pines were whispering 

To breezes playing with their lofty tops. 

While ocean's deepest bass fell on my ear. 

On the smooth carpet of the wooded plain. 

Woven of needly shatters of the pine, 

I slipped and fell, but rose again, to gaze, 

Through glades that opened eastward toward the sea, 

On the most grand, magnificent of scenes. 

Across the narrow hvij of Chincoteague 

Two islands stood apart, as if to form 

An inlet and protection for the fleets 

Of coast wise commerce near that favored shore. 

I saw the piney curtains of the beach 

Drawn back on either side, to open up 

To human view old ocean's majesty. 

With awe-struck spirit I had seen the sky. 

By day and night, in its immensity: 

Its sparkling stars, its mildly beaming moon, 

Its drifting clouds, and its bright, dazzling sun. 

Its distances seemed to forbid approach; 

But the broad, boundless ocean at my feet 

Not only with its vastness awed my soul. 

Its large ships sailing to mysterious ports 

Held my imagination as entranced. 



TALES OF EARLY LOVE. 

The luster of the wide-spread satin sails 

Made of me a Columbus for a time, 

Longing to visit the most distant coasts, 

And claim their startling grandeur as my own. 

My musings ended with my morning walk, 

And my good uncle's hospitable home 

Threw wide its doors to welcome honored guests. 

My aunt and my tall cousins kissed the boy, 

"Who, less than five years old, stood bashfully 

Until the master of the mansion came. 

Saw his dead brother's image in his child, 

And held him to his palpitating heart, 

Dropping the tears of age on childhood's cheek. 

'Tis wonderful how much the young can learn 

In one brief, fleeting hour of early life! 

Insects and birds, sweet flow'rs and tow'ring trees 

The ocean's grandeur and the concave sky, 

Yoices of kindred, clasps of friendly hands, 

Eeligion's counsels and inspiring hopes — 

All ministered to one expanding mind. 

But a mere child, months younger than myself, 

Gave the impressive lesson of that hour, 

Taught the great mystery of youthfid love. 

My Cousin Margaret, a sprightly girl. 

Came in to entertain the little boy. 

The lily and the rose could not compare 

With the clear colors of her dimpled cheeks ; 

Nor apple blossoms, waving in the wind. 

With the rich hues of her fair countenance. 

Her features seemed the work of G-od's own hand, 

And holy angels might have left their thrones 

To print fond kisses on her glowing lips. 

JSTor sky, nor ocean, nor the shining sun 

Could match the blue and brightness of her eyes. 

Her form was symmetry, her motions grace; 

Her ev'ry movement kindled new delight ; 

Her voice was more than music to my ear. 

Such tones were hers as heav'n might stoop to hear; 

They seemed to wing the happy hours away. 

The pleasures of that day are with me still. 

They bring to memory most pure delight. 



10 TALES OF EAIiLY LOVE, 

And give to age the charm of childhood's dreams. 
But, ladies, you have listened patiently, 
To a rude rhapsody of other days. 

You say: " G-o on." Well, I will then proceed. 
I would not talk like " Ovid " if I could, 




My Cousin Margaret, a sprightly girl, 
Came in to entertain the little boy. 

!N"or speak such burning words as Byron wrote; 
I cannot tell of love like Burns or Scott, 
ISTor Campbell of a " rapture-smitten frame," 
Or Eden's joyless wild 'Hill woman smiled;" 
I^or love's own poet, brilliant Thomas Moore. 



TALES OF EARLY LOVE, 

But you shall have a tale of village life, 

When that grand classic, Webster's spelling book, 

Taught the wise tactics of a warfare waged 

Over the spelling of our English words. 

Whole ranks went down before our bold attacks, 

Brave victors triumphed in great battles won. 



11 




When that grand classic, Webster's spelling book, 
Taught the wise tactics of a warfare Avagecl 
Over the spelling of our English words. 

I was a young Napoleon in those fights, 

And when " the sun of Austerlitz " was seen 

I by shrewd signs, and whispers slyly breathed. 

Kept my fair Josephine crowned near my throne. 

She was most lovely. Six short years ago 

I saw her grandchild, wearing her sweet smiles, 



12 



TALES OF EARLY LOVE, 



And loved her much for her grandmother's sake, 

Who in the twenties, sixty years before, 

Had won the love of my devoted heart, 

When, without cruelty to fleecy flocks, 

Boys threw sheep's eyes at girls they fondly loved. 

You smile at the simplicity of age ; 




When, withoiit cruelty to fleecy flocks, 

Boys threw sheep's eyes at girls they fondly loved. 

Yet Hfe's sublimest joyousness oft springs 
From unsuspected bliss in simplest things. 

Y"ou say: "Proceed." Esther, a Quakeress, 

AVith saintly features, won me at sixteen. 

I loved the drab-dressed people for her sake, 

And "thees " and " thous " seemed-heaven's choicest words. 

I went to Quaker meeting, and enjoyed 




Esther, a Quakeress, 
Witii saintly features, won me at sixteen. 



(13) 



14 TALES OF EARLY LOVE. 

The silent service, gazing on her face. 
She was far fairer than a poet's dream 
Of all that's beautiful in earth or sky. 
Milton's grand Eve, by Dubufe's pencil drawn, 
Had no such blonde perfection as she wore, 
Lacking the charm of living magnetism, 
That neither words nor colors can portray. 
Her looks were sermons that, rebuking sin, 
Made men feel penitent for loving her. 
I guess she goes to Quaker meetings yet, 
Perhaps discourses, and says " thee " and " thou " 
To reverential hundreds of good friends. 

When I was next enamored, Emeline 

Was tall and stately, dignified, refined. 

Majestic as Zenobia, and as proud. 

She had known happier days, but fortune frowned, 

And she descended to the lowly place 

Of clerk to a confectioner, and sold 

Delicious morceaux to admiring crowds. 

Demure and grave, she stood with soft white hands, 

To deal out sweets less sweet than her sweet self 

Seeming unconscious of the hungry eyes 

That feasted on the beauty they beheld. 

Her black hair curled upon her snowy brow, 

And dimpled cheeks with fitful blushes flushed. 

Her dark bright eyes looked out upon the world 

With a most lofty and disdainful gaze. 

Until her lovers gladly would have paid 

To have some artist paint upon her face 

A smile to light its glorious loveliness. 

But she smiled not upon the multitudes. 

At church and on the street she wore a veil 

To hide her features from intrusive eyes. 

'Twas said her smiles were kept for one who loved 

The haughty beauty in her early days, 

And promised to restore prosperity. 

And then enthrone her in his heart and home. 

I much regret that I could never learn 

How much she prospered in her later years, 

Nor how she lavished smiles upon one man. 



TALES OF EARLY LOVE. 



15 



But you grow weary of these tales of love 
And those fau', beauteous girls of bygone days; 
Let your sweet voices entertain us now. 



You still demand 
Of former times, 



"an old man's memories 
when youth and love still reigned.' 




Dcmnrc and grave, she stood with soft white hands, 
To deal out sweets less sweet tlian her sweet self. 

I'll tell of Sarah : how she walked to school, 

And passed my place of business day by day. 

The large poke bonnet which at first she wore, 

Made of drab fur, decked with an ostrich plume, 

Trimmed with wide ribbon of a peach bloom hue, 

Told of her coming quite a square away. 

I've watched through window panes till in the snow 




(16) 



SARAH IN SUMMER. 

She was a customer, and oft detained 
To look at many things she did not want. 



TALES OF EARLY LOVE, 17 

Her fairy footsteps could be plainly seen, 

And glimpses of her features could be gained 

In spite of envious ribbons, flow'rs, and furs. 

She was a customer, and oft detained 

To look at many things she did not want; 

And then called back to take from my own hand ' 

Bright boxes, pictures, and gay ornaments , 

With which fine goods were tastefully adorned. 

On Saturdays, when she could be at home, 

I to her mother took light merchandise, 

That she might the most beautiful select 

Ere other eyes had looked upon their hues, 

And I might gaze on her fair daughter's face. 

We never talked of love, but to our ears 

The servants of two households, gossiping, 

Told of the love each to the other bore. 

From twelve to twenty she was all my own, 

And I was hers despite fair Esther's bloom 

Or all the grandeur of proud Emeline. 

She was the last loved object that I laid 

On God's pure altar-when his ministry 

Demanded my poor heart with all its pow'rs. 

Years after, when we both had long grown old, 

And children's children stood around our knees, 

I trod the walks made sacred by her steps, 

Nor stopped until her father's dwelling house 

Became the Mecca of my pilgrimage. 

I thought upon the Sabbaths when I sat 

Through the long prayer book service for her sake, 

And wished it longer, that my eyes might feast 

Upon her beauty through protracted hours. 

I strolled away to the old ivied church. 

So dear to her that I so long had loved, 

And dared to hope that with the glorified. 

Freed from all earthly taint, we'll meet again, ^ 

And pure-like angels, ever live, and love. ^ 

• ••••••«. i« 

Years passed, self-doomed to cold celibacy. 
When I would not permit myself to see 
Bewitching features or enchanting smiles; 

2 




(18) 



SAKAH AT HOME. 

On Saturdavs, Avhen she could be at home, 

I to hex- mother took liglit merchandise 

That I might gaze on her fair daughter's face. 







I trod the walks made sacred by her steps. 



(19) 



20 TALES OF EABLY LOVE. 

But nature would sometimes assert her pow'r. 
And show such loveHness to human eyes 
As captivated tlie most stoical, 
In spite of resolutions or of rules. 

Anna, a Presbyterian, came to hear 
The preaching of a zealous Methodist; 




With all the glory the old masters gave 
To holy Mary in mediaeval times. 

And, innocent of wrong to any one, 

Led captive the young preacher's truant heart. 

Intelligent, refined, genteel, devout. 

Her saintly countenance. Madonnalike, 

Had all the glory the old masters gave 

To holy Mary in mediaeval times. 







Kosa, with pinklike features, form and frame, 
Fair, fragile blos-om, caught iny youlhful eye. 



(21) 



22 TALES OF EARLY LOVE, 

Devotion beamed as brightly in her face 

As if she never thought of aught but heav'n. 

I sought no introduction to the maid, 

But that bright vision haunted me for years. 

I saw her when she brought grown children out 

To hear me preach. She still was beautiful, 

With the old heav'nly glory on her face. 

Rosa, with pinklike features, form and frame. 

Fair, fragile blossom, caught my youthful eye. 

She seemed to need protection from the world, 

Such as a man's strong heart longed to extend. 

Besides, she was the champion of my Church, 

Defending it against its enemies 

With words of wisdom far beyond her years 

And the resistless pow'r of a pure life. 

The elements of martyrdom in her 

Lacked only flames for full development. 

She threw her loving smile upon vaj path, 

And rode through wintry storms to hear me preach. 

Her friends were told how dear I Avas to her. 

She chose the school that I did recommend, 

And let me know that I might find her there. 

She was too young to marry, so was I — 

At least the Churches said they knew I was — 

So we proposed to wait through the slow years, 

Until our youthful minds were more mature. 

Her parents did not smile upon my suit; 

They willed that she should wed some wealthy man, 

Which to the world would seem most wise in them. 

I must teach disobedience to a child, 

And steal her from her teachers if I could, 

And rashly marry ere I was prepared, 

Or risk home influence to j^art loving hearts. 

So I informed her I would still be hers, 

To wait most patiently while she desired. 

And said that earth and hell in vain might try 

To part me from her, against her own will. 

Her parents had their way, and months rolled on, 

Time cured our troubles and released our hearts 

From the sweet thraldom that had held them fast. 



TALES OF EARLY LOVE. 

I Avas well married, Eosa soon was wed 

To one entirely worthy of her heart, 

And in three years she gently slept in death. 



23 




The elements of martyrdom in her 
Liickccl only flames for full development. 

Now, ladies, you'll excuse your aged friend. 
And let your own sweet voices charm our ears. 
You say, "JSTo, no;" and claim another tale 
Of youthful love to entertain the hour. 



24: 



TALES OF EARLY LOVE. 



But what if that should bring me too near home, 
And give most grave offense to one whose love 
In "rosy bondage long has held my heart?" 
You still insist that I shall take all risks, 
And talk right on about most sacred ties. 




'Twas Sunday night Avlien, rising from my knees, 
I saw tlie paragon of human kind. 

A new appointment claimed my services. 
Taxed all my energies, and brought strange crowds 
To witness a young man's embarrassment. 
'Twas Sunday night when, rising from my knees, 
I saw the j)aragon of human kind. 



TALES OF EARLY LOVE, 25 

I knew she had not just dropped down from heav'n, 

But where on earth had such perfection grown? 

She sung in tones I never heard before ; 

Her voice came grandly, sweetly through the sounds 

Upraised by others in the praise of God, 

As if some seraph from th' eternal throne 

Had brought to earth the music of the skies. 

My sermon was to other ears addressed; 

I could command no language fit for hers. 

On Thursday night her sister and herself 

Brought their certificates to join my Church. 

I clasped a hand too pure for man to touch ; 

It sent a heav'nly thrill to my rapt heart. 

Her name, with trembling hand placed on my book, 

Cast its bright radiance over the whole page. 

Through twelve months we were often face to face, 

Whilerosy blushes flushed our glowing cheeks. 

Too sacred far she seemed for wedded life, 

I did not dare to hope she might be mine; 

And so we took no time for lovers' talk. 

Indeed, so fascinating was the girl, 

I wondered if she lived on common food. 

One so ethereal, so angelical 

Seemed far too near to heav'n, to be of earth. 

I sometimes ventured to myself to say : 

"She must have feasted on nectareous fruits. 

Else whence the matchless bloom upon her face? 

Or possibly of fragrant coffee sipped. 

Or syllabub, or custard, or ice cream. 

Or honey, or dehcious patriots' food, 

The rich baked sweet potatoes of our land." 

When I first saw her at her father's house 

Sit banqueting on common bread and meat, 

And vegetables of the coarser sorts, 

And learned she had an appetite for krout, 

I was astonished, and could scarce believe 

The testimony of my eyes and ears. 

But it was fortunate for me and mine 

That my good angel had warm, healthy blood, ^ 

Firm nerves, strong muscles, and most active limbs, 

And worked untiringly in useful ways. 



■<^:. 



W: 



!^'-' 




(26) 



Jiiit It was fortunate lor me and mine 

That my good angel had warm, healtliy blood. 



TALES OF EARLY LOVE. 



27 



Your eyes are asking if we ever wed. 
Yes. 'Twas the most astounding mystery 
Of all the num'rous myst'ries of my life 
That she consented to become my own, 
And link with loving courtesies her days 
With my obscure and lowly destiny. 




And worked imtiiingly in useful ways. - 

Near half a century of wedded bliss 

Has proved how happily the j)Oor may live. 

Loves, births, and deaths have visited our house, 

But hatreds have not dared to enter in. 

Already half of our loved children stand 

On the bright shores of immortality. 



28 



TALES OF EARLY LOVE. 



Their beck'ning hands invite us to the skies, 
To share the glories of our upper home. 
The guard and guide of my life's pilgrimage 




Songs triumphant, jubilant, sublime. 

Still gently leads us upward to our God ; 

And cheers the way with hopes and smiles and joys 

And songs triumphant, jubilant, sublime. 



TALES OF EARLY LOVE. 29 

THE BRIDAL MORN. 

Yes, I ever shall remember 
Those glad moments in Se^^tember 
When two hearts that love had captured 
Saw a universe enraptured, 
"While all nature smiled delighted 
On the vows that youth had plighted. 
Even darkness seemed desiring, 
Though at early dawn retiring. 
To indulge in fond caressing 
Or confer some priceless blessing^ 
On the happy ones whose dreaming 
With ecstatic bliss was teaming. 
Starry hosts gazed fondly, brightly, 
'Till Aurora, tripping hghtly. 
Passed the portals of the morning. 
All the Orient adorning, 
Then departed, gayly dancing. 
As she saw the sun advancing; 
But, obedient to duty. 
Modest clouds, in dimpled beauty, 
Came in rosy love tints flushing, 
With admiring envy blushing, 
Almost off'ring adoration 
To the fairest of creation. 
Misty morning stood enchanted 
When his nimble feet were planted, 
On the threshold where reclining 
Loveliness was seen entwining 
Op'ning buds and blooming flowers 
For her happy nuptial hours. 
Then the king of day came rushing, 
Gloom and twihght swiftly brushing 
From his pathway bright, and blazing; 
While the world was wildly gazing 
At the jewels which he lavished 
On the hearts his grandeur ravished 
When the radiant glory gleaming 
From his face, with brightness beaming, 
Blazed on river, lake, and fountain, 



TALES OF EARLY LOVE. 31 

Flashed on valley, plain, and mountain, 

Changing tear drops of the dawning 

Into diamonds of the morning. 

Eound his steps were flowers blooming, 

All the air with sweets perfuming, 

While the blessedness of heaven 

Seemed to mortals richly given, 

As on the bridal beauty glancing. 

All was dazzling and entrancing. 

Then the sportive hours stepped sprightly 

As they saw their monarch lightly 

Move in majesty and beauty 

To perform his loving duty, 

Nuptial torches gladly bearing. 

As if more than honored sharing, 

In the blissfulness attending 

On the bridal that was blending 

Hearts that death can never sever, 

As they'll still love on forever, 

In the home of love immortal 

Just beyond the pearly portal. 




Eiil-JS'lFWil!*^' 




(32) 



mw I'w^^agfejgr-^pf; 




VIRGINIA VISITED. 



SELECTED POEMS^ 



VIRGINIA VISITED. 

Richmond, Va., May, 1886. 

Here, loveliest of mothers, 

At home, from sorrows free, 
I leave all else to others; 

And in my childish glee, 
Entranced by charms that grace thee 

I stand beside thy knee; 
Thy loving arms embrace me, 

While thrilling ecstasy 
Bids care and gloom and sadness 

With quick'ning speed depart, 
As in this hour of gladness 

I nestle near thy heart; 
And lay my flushed cheek lightly 

Upon thy tender breast, 
Where in my childhood nightly, 

I dreamed of heav'nly rest. 

Through years of weary wand'ring, 

I've languished for thy smile, 
My s^^irit fondly pond' ring. 

On ev'iy winning wile 
That won my love, and bound me 

With fascinating pow'r. 
And twined my heartstrings round thee, 

In childhood's guileless hour. 
That sacred tie, unbroken, 

Still draws me to thy side. 
With many a wish unspoken, 

That here I might abide. 

(33) 



34 TALES OF EARLY LOVE, I 

J 

A dreary road, and lonely, \ 

I'll tread when we muat part, ;; 

Though I have brought thee only \ 

A loving, homesick heart. ' 

O best beloved of mothers ! : 

I The "Iliad of thy woes" , 

Wrings from my noble brothers, ^, 

And even from thy foes, _^ 

The bitter tears of sorrow : 

And sympathetic grief, ; 

That seek from G-od to borrow, i 

For virtue, sweet relief. \ 

'Twas when thy homes were blazing, ' 

By vandal fires consumed, I 

Th' indignant world stood gazing, \ 

And saw th}^ face illumed 

With more than earthly glory; \ 

And thy majestic form, ^ 

Though battle-scarred and gory, ; 

Eose grandly through the storm. ]^ 

Thermopylses a hundred, ; 

And Marathons b}^ scores, j 

Still tell where cannons thundered ; 

To guard thy sacred shores. j 

Yet not from puny Persians, | 

Thy bloody fields were won, I 

Nor troops whose brief incursions ; 

End with the rising sun; j 

But men thou wouldst have cherished ^i 

Were fiercest of thy foes, 

And when they bravely perished, \ 

In agonizing throes, l 
Thou laidst their countless numbers 

Beside thy boldest braves, ': 

To peaceful, quiet slumbers, N 

In "hospitable graves." 

O mother of the mighty! ; 
Thy matchless, gallant sons 



SELECTED POEMS, 35 

Take precedence, and rightly, 

Of all earth's valiant ones; 
Not Caesar, nor Napoleon, 

Nor he of Macedon, 
Nor German, Frank, nor Briton 

Could do what they have done. 
The fabled hosts that Homer 

Made high Olympus tread 
Were dwarfed beside each roamer 

That "Stonewall" Jackson led; 
No gods of Grecian story 

Could bear comparison. 
On fields of martial glory. 

With Lee or Washington. 

By old Britannia's charter, 

A continent was thine; 
Hills, plains, and sparkling water, 

Each forest and each mine. 
The silv'ry voice of science 

Still pleads thy rightful claim, 
And boldly bids defiance 

To all who scorn thy name, 
"Virginiensis," brightly 

Her jeweled hand engraves 
On birds that carol lightly, 

On tenants of the waves; 
Fair flow'rets breathe it sweetly, 

It flashes on the tide. 
The wild deer bears it fleetly 

Far up the mountain side. 

Thy name, beloved, immortal 

Shall live when others die. 
And to thy glowing portal 

Thy children ever hie. 
When Time his course is ending, ' 

When all his works shall cease. 
All eyes shall see, descending. 

The glorious Prince of Peace; 
Then coming down from heaven, 

Christ's Virgin Bride shall shine, 



36 TALES OF EARLY LOVE, 

Fair, sinless, pure, forgiven, 

Illustrious, divine ! 
And thou and thine shall with them 

Be blessed and satisfied. 
As in the ]N"ew Jerusalem, 

Yirginia's glorified. 



I'LL THINK OF THE SAND BANKS.* 

Lexington, Ky., April, 1839. 

I'll think of the sand banks when morn's early beam 
Illumines the meadow and brightens the stream, 
When noon's sultry sunshine invites to repose. 
When night spreads oblivion o'er pleasures and woes; 
E'en my dreams shall be peopled with forms that were 

there, 
And their voices shall echo in fancy's rapt ear. 

I'll think of the sand banks when spring paints her 

flow'rs 
And calls her winged minstrels to gladden her bow'rs. 
When summer's warm smile glows above the parched 

soil, 
When autumn's rich stores bless the husbandman's toil. 
And the chill winds of winter shall bring to my mind 
The mem'ry of friends whom I there left behind. 

I'll think of the sand banks while youth's eager eye 
Still rests on hoj^e's bow in futurity's sky; 
When manhood with cares shall encircle my feet, 
Or leave me, unfriended, hfe's troubles to meet; 
And when age bids me gaze in the mirror of truth, 
I'll think of the sand banks, the home of my youth. 



TO MY MOTHER.f 

I LOVE the land that gave me birth. 
The fires that warm my native hearth, 

* Accomac, Ya. 

t Written at John Prather's, six miles East of Lexington, Ky., 
in the spring of 1842, and published in the Ladled Repository ^ 
Cincinnati, O. 




I'll think of the sand banks when spring paints her flowers 
And calls her winged minstrels to gladden her bowers. 



(37) 



38 TALES OF EARLY LOVE, 

The fields where childhood's sunny hours 
Mid rip'ning fruits and 013'ning flowers 
Breathed pleasure in the floating air, 
Nor thought of pain nor dreamed of care. 

I love the home of infancy, 

Virginia's charming scenery. 

The sand banks of my native shore, 

The whistling winds, the ocean's roar, 

The storm careering fearfully. 

The snow-capped surges wild and free. 

I love the friends of early years. 
Who kindly wiped my infant tears, 
The humble church without a spire, 
Where blazed devotion's hallowed fire, 
The ministers of sacred truth 
Who chid the wand' rings of my youth : 

I love them all — God bless my home — 
And shall where'er my steps may roam. 
But, mother, when compared with thee, 
To me they're less than vanity ; 
Next to the Clod she loves so well, 
My mother in my heart shall dwell. 

To guard my unprotected hours, 

To strew my ev'ry path with flow'rs. 

To make my childhood's sky grow bright, 

To quell my fears was thy delight; 

And with a love almost divine 

Thine eyes grew dim in watching mine. 

Dear mother, in my boyish dreams. 
When fancy ruled her magic realms, 
I gathered wealth that thy free hand 
Might scatter blessings through the land, 
I climbed Parnassian hills for fame. 
To give thy house a deathless name. 

I sought for honor's thorny road. 
To mingle with the giddy crowd ; 
And when the rosy wreath was gained, 




And with a love almost divine 

Thine eyes grew dim in watching mine. 



(39) 




(40) 



SELECTED POEMS, 41 

Though toil and blood its leaves had stained, 
Delighted, at thy feet I'd bow. 
And with it deck thy honored brow. 

Those dreams have passed, and hopes of heav'n 
To nobler themes my thoughts have giv'n; 
Wealth's golden stores may ne'er be mine, 
Nor fame my humble name enshrine. 
The pathway of humility 
Must lead my footsteps to the sky. 

But, mother, when my wand'rings end 
Where tall archangels lowly bend. 
Joyful, their sovereign Lord to own, 
And worship him who fills the throne; 
Should Jesus deign to smile on me, 
My thoughts shall fondly turn to thee. 

And should a heav'nly harp be mine, 
A crown of righteousness divine, 
A mansion in the land of love, 
A home in that bright world above, 
'Twill sweeten all the joys of heaven 
To know they're to my mother given. 



A WIFE'S FIFTIETH BIRTHDAY. 

Jeffersonville, Ind., April 20, 1873. 

Since first I saw thee, thou hast ever been 
My bright ideal of the beautiful, 
The type and pattern of all loveliness. 

Whether in gleeful gambolings, tripping 
O'er flow'ry paths, where pleasure led the way, 
In youth's bright morn; or at the noon of Ufe, 
Attending on love's myriad ministries 
With steady step ; or trudging cheerfully. 
In later hours, o'er rough and rugged roads. 
Where stern domestic drudg'ry drives her slaves — 
Love's partial eye has seen in all thy steps 
The poetry of motion and of grace. 





^:^m^U'. mi ■ 

Oi- at the noon . ..:. 
Attend on love's nivriad ministries. 

(42) 



SELECTED POEMS. 43 

Through all these happy hours thy gentle voice 

Has seemed to pour upon my ravished ear 

The music of that heav'n to which we go. 

J^o weight of years has bent thy graceful form ; 

'No sorrow dimmed the love light of thine eye ; 

The rose of beauty blooms upon thy cheek, 

Still fadeless through the frosts of fifty jenrs. 

The hearts that long have gladdened in thy smile 

Xow gather round to hail thy natal hour. 

So in the time to come this joyous day, 

The brightest in the calendar, shall find 

Thy throne of love, amid thy family, 

In home's delightful summer land of bhss. 



A TRUTHFUL IDYL OF REST AND RAPTURE. 

Orlando, Fla., September 4, I888. 

Let the bright needle rest to-day; 

Books, pens, and work are laid away; 

No toilsome thought shall hither stray j 

The sportive sunbeams idly play 

On the full ears of perfect corn, 

That fertile, restful fields adorn. 

They gayly dance and brightly smile 

On many a lonely tropic isle; 

Their languor-laden glory shines 

Where ocean lazilj^ reclines 

In his broad bed at perfect ease. 

And bids his slow-2)aced wavelets tease 

The shy and modest slumb'rous shore 

"With their unceasing, sullen roar. 

This sluggish air is not incKned 

The paths of busy trade to find; 

The soft -winged angels of repose 

Float lightly on each breeze that blows. 

Those grand old trees that, tow"ring high, 

Eest their tall heads against the sky 

Have done their work— borne buds and flow'rs 

And rich, ripe fruit — in former hours. 

The birds sit silent on the spray; 



44 TALES OF EARLY LOVE. 

Their tender fledgelings, flown away, 
Have left no chirping nursling brood, 
With hungry cries demanding food. 
In patriarchal grace and pride, 
They're quiet, grave, and dignified. 

Our tuneful offspring, loved and blest, 
Have long since left the parent nest; 
The children's children blithely play 
Through all this fair September day. 

Give me the hand that holds the thread, 
The hand I long have gently led. 
In loving clasp it still must stay ; 
Let the bright needle rest to-day. 

Hold there! With speed old cares depart; 

The warm pulsations of the heart 

Hejuvenate the blood of age. 

And all the faculties engage 

To quicken life's slow, latent springs, 

And give to fancy youthful wings. 

Th' ecstatic, dear, delightful dream 

Turns time's old turbid tide upstream: 

Threescore and ten goes hobbling off; 

See twenty-five his chapeau doff, 

And gently bow his gallant form. 

In heartfelt homage, high and warm, 

Where graceful sixty-six resumes 

The beauty that at twenty blooms. 

Come to the parlor ; take the arm 
That still protects and shields from harm. 
Tread lightly ou the hopes and fears 
Of four and forty wedded years, 
Whose blissful hours come smiling here, 
To fill our hearts with lofty cheer. 
Sing softly songs of former times : 
There's rapture in their simple rhymes. 
Let the old tunes that charm the soul 
Sublimely swell and sweetly roll. 



SELECTED POEMS. 45 

In this piano-prison bound 

There's many a captive thrilling sound. 

In harmony they all agree, 

And wait your touch to set them free. 

Though now their vocal chords are mute, 

You'll find a remedy to suit; 

The life of music lingers still 

In fingers that, with magic skill, 

Can draw from each obedient key 

Sweet, soul-entrancing melody. 

That heav'nly strain rej^eat, prolong: 
An angel well might hush his song, 
To pour upon his ravished ear 
The rich, mellifluous sounds I hear. 

We're young again, my precious bride; 
And I, enraptured by thy side, 
Recall the loveliness and grace 
Of faultless form and matchless face 
That won the heart that still is thine 
And still delights to call thee mine. 



THE FASTING, PRAYING CHURCH. 

Written in Louisville, May, 1844, on the day set apart for prayer by the 
Genei-al Conference on motion of Dr. John P. Durbin. Published in the 
Ladies'' Repository, Cincinnati, O.; copied by Dr. Thomas E. Bond, Sr., 
in Neiv York Advocate. 

Church of my early choice, thy sons 

Are bathed in sorrow and in tears, 
A company of sighing ones, 

A band of weeping worshipers ; 
Youth lays its joyousness aside ; 

Age bends beneath its weight of care ; 
Beauty and strength forget their pride — 

All bow submissively in prayer. 
And shall the suppliants depart 

In sadness from a throne of grace? 
Shall quiv'ring lip and throbbing heart, 

Despairing, leave the sacred place ? 
O can the bruised, bending reed 

Be broken by the God of love? 



TALES OF EARLY LOVE, 

No, Jesus lives to intercede ; 

Thy living Head still reigns above. 

Church of the living God, to thee 

A nation turns with anxious eye ; 
Gloom gathers o'er thy destiny, 

And darkness spreads along thy sky; 
Yet shall the storm cloud pass away, 

The lurid lightning cease to blaze ; 
The sunshine of a brighter day 

Shall gild thee with its gladd'ning rays. 
E'en though thy legions should divide, 

One standard of the cross would wave, 
One leader in thy front would ride, 

Mighty to conquer, strong to save. 
Th' eternal God thy refuge is. 

The everlasting arms are thrown 
Around the subjects of his grace. 

And he will safely keep his own. 

Church of the poor, no creed of thine 

Has taught thy sons exclusiveness ; 
They never claimed a right divine 

To curse the souls they could not bless; 
To fetter thought or chain the mind ; 

They ne'er have moved the civil pow'r. 
Nor with the foes of man combined 

To lengthen out oppression's hour ; 
No widow's tear, no orphan's sigh. 

No ashes of the martyred dead. 
No cries of sainted souls on high 

Have called for vengeance on thy head. 
But glad for thee the wilderness 

Now echoes to thy cheerful voice ; 
Cursed by the world, 'tis thine to bless 

Earth's erring sons with heav'nly joys. 

Church of our fathers, 'tis thy hand 
Shall guide their oifspring to the skies ; 

While through thy courts, from ev'ry land, 
The hosts of the redeemed shall rise. 



SELECTED POEMS, 47 

While wand'ring o'er his native sands, 

Or through the world in slav'ry driv'n, 
The Ethiop, with outstretched hands, 

Shall seek through thee for rest in heav'n. 
The Indian shall forget to roam. 

The war songs of the West shall cease, 
And tenants of each wigwam home 

Be subjects of the Prince of Peace. 
Through thee the Lord of hosts shall claim 

The distant nations for his own, 
Till tribes of ev'ry tongue and name 

Fall worshiping before his throne. 



VIRGINIA'S EASTERN SHORE, THE BRIDE OF OCEAN. 

To My Grandson. 

When the great Genoese found a new world, 

And laid its priceless treasures at the feet 

Of Isabella, his fair patroness, 

Rome's proud, presumptuous pontiff with vain words 

Confirmed to her and hers the gen'rous gift; 

But our proud island ancestors laid claim 

To no small share of this rich heritage. 

Cabot and Henry, Raleigh and Queen Bess, 

And that John Smith whose manly majesty 

Charmed Powhatan's loved daughter, wise Chatham, 

Valiant Wolfe — all nobly toiled for England. 

When the young giant of the West arose, 

He drove out all intruders from his home, * 

His statesmen and his soldiers looked afar 

Like Abraham when he beheld the realms 

That God had given to his promised seed. 

The prospect charmed them, and on battlefields 

They severed all the ties that bound their lands 

In subjugation base to foreign foes. 

Wise statesmen and brave soldiers shall not fail 

Till freedom's flag beneficently floats 

O'er all the smiling fields and wat'ry wastes 

From the Atlantic's central storm-tossed wave 

To the far distant verdant isles that gem 

Pacific's heaving bosom. Nowhere else 



50 TALES OF EARLY LOVE. 

In all this hemisphere is seen displayed 
Such matchless beauty as old ocean weds. 
Here in this " land of ev'ry land the pride " 
He holds her to his palpitating heart 
In chaste embrace, gently and tenderly 
Laying around her his great loving arm ; 




FORTRESS MONROE. 



The Chesapeake, bedecked with emeralds 
And sparkling brightly with the dazzling blaze 
Of waving diamonds, flashing back the light 
Of sunbeams such as gild no other spot. 



SELECTED POEMS. 51 

Embowered here amid earth's fairest flowers, 

The great majestic main enamored rests, 

Inhaling fragrance on each breeze that blows. 

Delightful dalliance speeds the happy hours, 

Adding new loveliness to dimpling smiles 

And fascinating pow'r to ev'ry blush, 

To each enchanting movement peerless grace. 

Till in ecstatic bliss he bids his waves 

Pay homage at her feet, and makes the earth, 

The waters, and the air bring grandest gifts 

To lavish on the object of his love. 

In this unequaled home of ocean's bride 

Six generations of your ancestors 

Have lived, have loved, have worshiped, and been blest. 



SUNRISE AT THE FALLS OF THE OHIO. 

Respectfully Inscribed to My Artist Friend, J. W. C. 

'TwAS in my daydream's fantasy 

Wealth, happiness, and fame 
Crowned one who wears most worthily 

An honored father's name. 
He left his downy couch at dawn 

To sketch a sunrise view, 
And by the misty light of morn 

Its shad'wy outlines drew, 
As, standing on a lofty height, 

A maiden by his side 
Filled pla3^ful children with delight 

All garlanded in pride. 
Then tenants of the pasture came 

To greet their human friends, 
Each with an honest, rightful claim 

To gifts our Father sends. 
The little ones right merrily 

Their fleecy guests embraced ; 
Eound pony's neck in girlish glee 

The maiden's arms were placed. 
The artist from his easel turned 

To see the petted brute. 




That glowing flush illumed the floods. 
The valleys, and the plains. 



(52) 



SELECTED POEMS. 53 

Yet, though his heart with envy burned, 

His tongue and lips were mute; 
For through the morning mists afar 

He saw the grass-grown hills 
That, ere an elemental war 

Had freed th' imprisoned rills. 
Inclosed a prehistoric lake 

With beauteous isles bedecked; 
But Titan hands with rending quake 

Had Muldrough's mountain wrecked, 
Dug out a channel for the streams, 

And set the waters free 
To sparkle in the sun's bright beams, 

Unfettered toward the sea. 
He gazed until the sky had smiled 

Away its look of gloom, 
And blushed with beauty that beguiled 

Dull darkness to his doom. 
That glowing flush illumed the floods, 

The valleys, and the plains. 
And waked the warblers of the woods 

To sing their sweetest strains; 
Made iron tracks of commerce seem 

Like massive bars of gold. 
O'er which with lightning's speed and gleam, 

Trade's thund'ring chariots rolled. 
The bridges stretched their giant arms 

Across the shining stream. 
Clothed in refulgent borrowed charms 

Lent by the early beam ; 
The grand canal reposed in pride, 

Within her marble walls. 
And saw the fleets of commerce glide 

In grandeur round the falls. 
Each rock shone like a radiant gem, 

Each wave seemed glitt'ring ore 
Which formed a matchless diadem 

Kentucky proudly wore. 
Her robe of emerald, bedecked 

With diamonds of dew. 



SELECTED POEMS. 55 

Aurora's pencil faintly flecked 

With dyes of roseate hue. 
In stately majesty and grace, 

Unseen on royal thrones, 
"With beauty's bloom upon her face, 

With music in her tones. 
In loveliness she gayly roves, 

And fairer none can be 
Except the mother that she loves, 

Who sits beside the sea, 
Who glories in such gallant sons 

As Washington and Lee, 
And all her other noble ones, 

Free leaders of the free. 
So mused the artist as he gazed, 

Till on his dazzled sight 
The sky, the earth, the waters blazed, 

With wondrous glory bright. 
'Twas sunrise on the belching fires 

Of mammon at his feet. 
And sunrise on the domes and spires 

Where saints delight to meet. 
And where the sleepers are at rest 

In forty thousand homes 
That shone like mansions of the blest. 

Where sorrow never comes. 
'Twas sunrise on the maiden's brow, 

And in the painter's heart, 
For he beheld a landscape now 

Full worthy of his art. 
'Twas graven on his ra])tured soul. 

In all its gorgeous hues; 
And under his complete control 

At will to reproduce. 
He gave that sunrise scene to all. 

Of ev'ry age and clime, 
And let its light descend and fall 

On all the tracts of time. 
It led the patient painter's way 

To fortune and to fame. 
Still flashing on the brow of day. 

His own illustrious name. 



56 TALES OF EARLY LOVE. 

"THROUGH HIM WE BOTH HAVE ACCESS BY ONE SPIRIT 
UNTO THE FATHER." 

PART FIRST. 

Eternal, self-existent Lord, 
In thee alone was life or power, 

Till thy omnific, sovereign Word 
Flashed light on nature's natal hour. 

The glorious universe complete, 

From thy exhaustless fullness came, 

AYith grandeur, beauty, love replete, 
Thy wondrous glories to proclaim. 

Father of all, in all thou art ; 

Immensity is filled with thee : 
We cannot from thy sight depart, 

l!^or from thy awful presence flee. 

We would not Father, leave thy side, 
Or doubt thy all-abounding grace. 

In thee we live, in thee confide. 
Yet cannot see thy glorious face; 

But in thine own eternal Son 

The Godhead bodily appears, 
At thy right hand, upon thy throne, 

Immanuel our nature wears. 

In Him, almighty to redeem. 

The brightness of thy- glory shines; 

The image of thyself in him 
Expresses all thy kind designs. 

Th' incarnate Son, for sinners slain. 
With matchless majesty and love. 

Suffered and died, and rose again 
To plead for us in realms above. 

PART SECOND. 

High in the heavens our Saviour reigns, 
But can he on the earth be found. 

To break the adamantine chains 

With which the sinner's soul is bound? 



58 TALES OF EARLY LOVE. 

He comes not upward from the deep^ 
jS'or from the heights of glory down, 

He shows not to the eyes that weep 
His starry or his thorny crown. 

We cannot on his bosom rest, 
Nor with him for an hour abide, 




THE TRANSFIGURATION. 

Nor follow, at his own request, 

His footsteps up the mountain side. 

Nor trembling touch with anxious fears, 
His garments on the crowded street 

Or wash with penitential tears, 
The dust of travel from his feet; 



SELECTED POEMS. 

Or catch the pitying look that broke 
Poor Peter's heart, with sacred grief; 

Or hear the gentle voice that spoke 
The pardon to the dying thief. 

Father, his body is not here, 
To give our souls access to thee, 



59 




WASHING FEET WITH TEARS. 

To hush the sigh, to wipe the tear, 
That tells the heart's deep agony. 

But in the storms of dire distress. 
That gloom the penitential hour, 

He has not left us comfortless : 
We feel the Holy Spirit's power. 



60 



TALES OF EARLY LOVE, 



PART THIRD. 



Sent from the Father, by the Son, 
The Holy Grhost, in person comes, 

To comfort each believing one. 

And dwell within our humble homes. 




THE CRUCIFIXION. 



He leads ns to the crimson flood, 
That ev'r}^ human soul redeemed, 

Precious, propitiatory blood, 

That from the wounds of Jesus streamed. 



SELECTED POEMS. Q\ 

He makes the leprous sinner clean, 
Blots out the record of our shame, 

Takes from us all the guilt of sin, ' 
And writes within us the new name. 

Omnij^otently strong to save, 

He ends the struggle and the strife; 

He raised our Saviour from the grave, 
And gives dead souls eternal life. 

In manifested pow'r and love 

He makes our bodies his abode, 
And fleshly tabernacles prove 

The temples of the living God. 

hj him, through Jesus, we obtain 

Access to thee, and in thee live; 
And with thee. Father, all things gain, 

That man can need or God can give. 

The universe at thy command 

Lays its rich treasures at our feet, 

And as we in thine image stand. 

Thy presence makes our bliss complete. 



THE APOSTLES' CREED IN VERSE. 

I BELIEVE in God the Father, 

The almighty, the divine, 
Father of my Lord and Saviour, 

And, O blessed thought! he's mine. 
I believe in God the Father; 

Not in chance nor gloomy fate: 
That 'twas he with wond'rous wisdom 

Did the universe create: 
That he made the earth and heav'ns 

For the children of his love, 
And intends that they shall ever 

Dwell in bUss with him above. 



62 



TALES OF EARLY LOVE. 



He is my own loving Father, 
No poor orphan waif am I ; 

I'm an heir of endless glory, 
I'm a child of the Most High. 

I believe in our Lord Jesus, 
The divine, anointed One; 




Born of blessed Virgin Mary. 



He alone is the Begotten, 
He is the Eternal Son. 

Born of blessed Virgin Mary, 
By the Holy Ghost conceived. 

He was love divine, incarnate, 
Yet by men was not received. 



SELECTED POEMS. 63 

That he, under Pontius Pilate, 

Suffered, bled, was crucified, 
Bearing all our sins upon him, 

When in agony he died. 

I believe his body buried 

Lay in Joseph's marble tomb 
Till the third auspicious morning ' 

When he left it's dismal gloom : 
Then o'er death and hell triumphant 

He ascended into heav'n, 
At the right hand of the Father, 

Where to him all pow'r is giv'n. 

On his great white throne descending, 

He will judge the quick and dead, 
When the awe-struck earth and heavens 

From before his face have fled. 

I adore thee, Lord and Saviour, 

For thou wast and art divine, 
On the throne of Triune Godhead, 

Or in this poor heart of mine. 
I adore thee in the myst'ry 

That incarnates deity, 
1\\ the judgment hall of Pilate, 

In expiring agony; 
In thy vict'ry over Satan, 

Over death, hell, and the grave, 
Giving perfect demonstration 

Of omni23otence to save. 
I adore my Mediator 

In the heav'nly heights above, 
On his awful throne of judgment, 

Which to me's a throne of love. 
He will vindicate his peoj^le. 

Be thou jubilant, my soul ! 
Thou shalt reign in joyous rapture, 

While eternal ages roll. 

In the Holy Ghost eternal, 
I with all my heart believe; 



64 TALES OF EARLY LOVE. 1 

In his offices and person, j 

His divinity receive. \ 

I rely on him for comfort, ; 

And for freedom from all sin : \ 

He will cleanse his human temple, ' 

• And enshrine himself Avithin. \ 

'Tis by him that we have access i 

To the Father, through the Son, 
He will guide and help and strengthen, 

Till our work on earth is done. ' 



In the Church of God believing, 

I would seek no hermit's cell; 1 

Church on earth, and in the heavens ^ 

Let me with your members dwell. \ 

I believe in sweet communion j 

With the saints of the Most High, j 

In their fellowship I'm living, ; 

And among them I shall die. f 

I believe in the remission j 

And the blotting out of sins ; j 

When, with faith in the Eedeemer, \ 

Everlasting life begins; \ 

Not to end when this poor body J 

Heaves it's last expiring breath, ' 

But exist in conscious glory, -^ 

Endless ages after death. 

In the body's resurrection - 

I implicitly believe, ; 
As the Lord descends from heaven, 

All his people to receive; ; 

They, arising in his likeness, ; 

Shall be glorious like their Lord, j 

Incorruptible! immortal! I 

And, according to his word. 

Shall in joyous exultation ' 

And ecstatic rapture sing : 

"Where, O grave, is^ now tliy vict'ry? - 

Where, Odeath, thy pointless sting?" '. 



^\)ere s notbma 
balf so sweet in life as 

LeVE'SVeUNG DREAM 

except 

^HE H0NEY-FR00N 

of one wl^o bas been a 
widow or widowen. 




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